My In-Laws Mocked the Tow Driver, Until They Learned I Was Kijin novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Roast
Floyd is served divorce papers at the Hallworth Sunday table and told he asked for two million dollars. Clifford tells him to sign. He signs, and the money lands in his account.
My wife's family served me divorce papers between the salad and the roast beef.
It was Sunday dinner at the big brick house, the same as every Sunday for five years.
Eleven relatives sat at the long table, and nobody looked surprised.
Clifford, my wife's grandfather, had a folder squared in front of his plate before anyone sat down.
I noticed it when I took my usual chair at the far end, closest to the kitchen door.
Clifford noticed me noticing, and he winked.
He was the only Hallworth who ever winked at me.
Meredith sat across the table with her hands folded and her wedding ring gone from her finger.
She had stayed at her grandfather's house for a month "to help him out." I had believed her.
Her father tapped his water glass with a spoon.
"Floyd, since the whole family is here, let's handle this like adults."
Her brother slid the folder down the table.
It stopped against my plate.
My name was on the first page, and so was Meredith's.
"Mer?" I said. "You could have told me at home."
"I tried," she said, looking at the tablecloth. "You said we'd talk after you finished the customer's tow."
That was true. I had said that, three Sundays in a row.
"Don't make it ugly," her brother said. "Dad's already offered you two million to go quietly."
Somebody laughed down the table.
"More money than a tow truck driver sees in ten lifetimes," said an aunt, and reached for the potatoes.
"I haven't asked anyone for money," I said.
Her father, Gerald, folded his napkin. "You asked Clifford's lawyer for it on Thursday."
"I haven't spoken to a lawyer in my life."
"Then he must have misheard," Gerald said, and smiled at the table. "Poor man. He's confused."
Meredith looked up for the first time.
Her eyes were wet and her jaw was set.
"Please just sign it, Floyd," she said. "Please don't make me say it all in front of them."
I turned to Clifford.
He hadn't touched his food. His pale blue eyes were on mine, steady and kind.
"Sign it, son," he said quietly. "Trust me. I'll make it right."
Five years at this table, and he was the only one who had ever passed me the good bread.
I didn't understand what he was asking.
I understood that he was asking.
So I took the pen and signed.
My hand didn't shake. I made sure of that.
Her brother, Preston, clapped slowly, three times.
"Look at that. Five years of marriage, and he finally earned something."
The table laughed again, louder.
Preston leaned over and patted my shoulder, then my cheek, two light smacks to show the table whose house it was.
I took his wrist.
I didn't squeeze. I just closed my hand around it and held it there.
His smile stopped.
These were the hands that had once held a bridge alone for a night, and Preston only knew them as the hands that fixed his father's trucks.
"Let go," he said.
"Don't touch me again," I said.
The table went quiet enough that I could hear the clock in the hall.
I let go.
Preston rubbed his wrist and laughed too high. "He's got a temper. That's a first."
Gerald waved his hand. "Sit down, Preston. Floyd was just leaving."
I stood up and pushed in my chair.
Meredith didn't look at me again.
Clifford reached across the table and pressed my forearm once with his dry old fingers, and then he let go.
I walked out through the front hall past the wedding photo they hadn't taken down yet.
In the truck, I sat with my hands on the wheel and the folder on the seat beside me.
My phone buzzed.
It was a bank alert.
Deposit received: $2,000,000.00. From: Hallworth Freight Holdings.
I had asked for nothing.
Somebody had told my wife I had asked for everything.
I decided on the spot that I would give back every dollar.
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